


The Other Woman

by leigh_adams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, Community: hp_unfaithful, Consensual Infidelity, Drinking, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Smoking, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/pseuds/leigh_adams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before her sham of a marriage, she would have bristled at being any man's dirty little secret. Not anymore, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Pseudo-Advent Calendar Fest](http://hp-unfaithful.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%3A%20dec%202012%20advent%20festlet) at hp_unfaithful with these [two](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/snegurochka_lee/5460210/11281/11281_300.jpg) [photographs](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/snegurochka_lee/5460210/11549/11549_300.jpg) as the prompt.

Her heels clicked lightly on the marble floor as she came up behind him, drawing his gaze to the mirror behind the bar. Reaching into her clutch, she pulled out her antique cigarette case and withdrew one, holding it up to him. "Have a light?"

Ron Weasley raised one ginger eyebrow at her. "You don't smoke," he replied even as he pulled a lighter out from his coat pocket.

"Neither do you," Pansy retorted, pulling the lit cigarette between her lips. She took a long drag and then exhaled, blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. "Another row with Mrs. Weasley?" She chanced a glance at his face; the thin press of his lips was enough of an affirmative answer. 

She'd already known, of course. It was part of their... whatever it was. Astoria called it an affair, which suited Pansy well enough. Ron would row with his bushy-haired, know-it-all wife, she'd storm out, and he would Floo her. They never met in the same place. It was always Muggle and well away from their respective norms. Pansy's friends -- even her husband -- knew about Ron, but she was a secret to his friends and family. 

Once upon a time, it would have bothered her. Before her sham of a marriage, before her youth had faded away and pregnancy had changed her body, she would have bristled at being any man's dirty little secret. Not anymore, though. She was fond of Theodore; loved him, even. But they didn't share that fiery passion that she had found with Ron. She had done her duty to her husband and provided him with two children -- and he had not shared her bed since the night they conceived their son. 

Ron reached for the glass of whiskey that had appeared next to the martini. "What do you think, Pans?" He tossed the drink back and downed the fingers in one swallow; she had to wonder how many he'd gone through before she arrived.

"I think you have a shrew for a wife." She leaned forward elbows on the bar, and reached for the martini. It was a calculated movement; she could practically feel the way his gaze was drawn to her ample décolletage. "But you knew that already."

He snorted. "What, and Nott is the picture of a devoted husband?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Ronald. Theodore is fucking some French boy in our villa on the Riviera." She took a sip of her drink. "We keep to our agreement."

"Bully for you," Ron muttered. 

With a sigh, Pansy took a pull from her cigarette. "Did you Floo just to whine about your wife, or was there something else?" she asked through an exhale of smoke. "I did cancel an evening at the theatre for this." Her tone was nonchalant, but it was a facade. They both knew it. What they shared was... at the risk of sounding a sentimental sap, it was _special_. If he had called, Pansy would have happily cancelled whatever plans to see him -- and damn it, he knew it. 

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't exactly have anyone else to talk to?" The heat in his voice surprised her, and his eyes were bright and glassy when her gaze met his. "My best friend is no good in this situation. My brothers would beat the shite out of me if they knew about you, and Hermione -- I don't even know what she'd do if she found out."

Her gaze softened. She reached to cover his hand with hers. "Ronald, I --"

"We've been seeing a counselor." His hand twisted to lace his fingers through hers and he paused, silence descending as they sat hand-in-hand for a moment. "A marriage counselor Audrey suggested it."

Pansy didn't have to ask if it was helping. She was here. That was evidence enough that whatever problems Ron and Granger had, they were beyond solving. "Part of moving forward is knowing something is beyond repair," she commented lightly. 

He nodded and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I know." 

How could that simple brush of lips have such an effect on her? She was a seasoned witch, but one crooked smile or a soft kiss from Ron Weasley made her feel giddy as a schoolgirl. It was _ridiculous_.

She leaned over and put her cigarette out in the ashtray, pulling him off his bar stool. "Get your coat," she said. "We're going home."

Ron blinked in surprise. "Your home? What about..."

"Astrid is in Paris with her girlfriends, Theodore is out of the country, and Phillip is still at school." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot she knew made him shiver; that sliver of skin between his ear and his jaw. "We won't be disturbed."

It had the desired effect. She felt the shudder run through him, and his eyes were dark and heated when he pulled back to look at her. His hands found her hips, grasping the black silk that kept them covered from his gaze and fingers. Pulling her flush against him, his lips were a hairsbreadth away from her own when he murmured, "Nott's a fool."

Pansy's lips curled in a pleased smile. Her gaze flickered to his lips, then back to meet his own as she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. It never took long to bring desire to the forefront when they were together. Her reply was an exhale between deep, long kisses that spoke of darker things -- of naked skin and silk sheets; heady kisses and cries of pleasure. It was never a question of _if_ when they were together, but a question of _when_.

"So is Granger."


End file.
